


Five Moments of Desire

by deadcellredux, Salamander



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Multi, dirty dirty threesomes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-23
Updated: 2012-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-31 15:39:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadcellredux/pseuds/deadcellredux, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamander/pseuds/Salamander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something Ashe wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Moments of Desire

**Author's Note:**

> deadcellredux a/n: So Sai and I got paired up for the gift exchange, but we decided to collaborate instead! We had so much fun writing this fic, and It is our sincerest hope that some fun will come from reading it! No, really- that's what we were going for (and fan service *cough*). The collaboration was an awesome process. Many brofists were had.
> 
> sai a/n: best. Collab. EVER. Everyone should go find deadcellredux on everything and read all their shit, because everything they write is epic. We have lots more collaborations planned, so basically: PREPARE YOURSELF, WORLD. Also, this was my first time writing FFXII outside of a poem about the Necrohol at Nabudis, and I loved it soooo fucking much. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as we enjoyed writing it!

**#1 On Swordplay**

"Father says I am to have sword fighting lessons."

"Does he now?" Basch chuckled. He looked at Vossler. "What do you think?"

Vossler smiled his slow smile and regarded Ashelia with appraising eyes. "I don't know, brother. She's only a little thing."

"She could not yet hold a sword, I'd wager."

Ashelia's glare could have shattered a shield. "I care not for your  _wagers_ ," she said with uncharacteristic venom. "I want to learn."

"And your father, the King," Vossler said in a calming voice. "He says this is to be?" The twinkle in Basch's eye told Vossler that he disbelieved as much.

She took a step forward, levelling her gaze up at Vossler. "I hardly think that matters. I wish it, therefore you will do so. Or must I have you punished?" Her threats held no backbone, but Vossler inclined his head anyway.

"Well then, your wish is our command, my Lady." He went down to one knee, his head on a level with Ashelia's. "I would not see you wanting in experience, when you clearly have such an abundance of valour."

"We will need to see about getting you properly equipped, of course." Basch tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I think a shortsword to begin, with a small shield, perhaps."

"Wooden, of course," Vossler added. "We don't want you hurting yourself for real now, do we."

"I would say the last thing we need would be time, Princess. Do you think you can set aside some for this?"

"I would not have come to you if I could not," Ashelia replied.

"My, you are extremely well prepared. I stand corrected." Basch smiled. "Leave it to Vossler and myself, Princess, and you will not go far wrong."

The next morning, Basch blinked awake to a horrific pounding at the door of his room. The pounding went on for five minutes, then moved away distant for five, then came back full force. There were voices outside his heavy door, and a bass laugh he would recognise anywhere. He groaned as the door flew open.

"What time do you call this," Ashelia demanded as she strode inside, no thought to decorum or politeness. Basch grabbed at his covers, hiding at least some of his dignity while Vossler simply looked on, a faint smile hovering about his lips. He was enjoying this, the monster! Basch vowed to  _have words_ with him later on.

"My Lady," he said, his voice soft with sleepiness. "I was not aware we would be beginning before daybreak. Please accept my apologies." He turned to Vossler, who was keeping his eyes strictly averted. "Some warning might have been nice, brother." There was no bite to his words, and he knew Vossler was aware of this as his lips crooked upwards in a smirk.

Vossler looked him in the eyes. "Then we would not have had the fine opportunity to catch our fon Ronsenberg off guard," he murmured.

Basch blinked slowly and held the eye contact for a few seconds more, before turning back to Ashelia in supplication. "If you would be so good, Princess," he gestured at himself. "I would not bare myself further and risk impropriety."

She followed his hand with her eyes, mouth an 'o' of surprise. A faint flush tinged her cheeks, and she whirled around on her heel at once. "Do carry on, Basch. Do not let me detain you."

A warm chuckle from Vossler, who very purposefully let his own gaze linger slightly longer than was proper before turning himself around also.

Ashe tossed her hair out of her face, vowing not for the first time to get the length cut down as much as she dared. She was panting, her face was sweaty, but it was nothing compared to those of Basch and Vossler, who were clad full in their armour and labouring under the sun. She raised her hand for a breather, and leaned against the garden wall to catch her breath.

"If I did not know better, I would think you two were purposefully wearing me down," she said, pointedly.

They exchanged glances, but no denials were uttered. Instead, Basch just grinned. Ashe felt her stomach do a backflip, and she narrowed her eyes in retaliation.

"On the contrary, Princess. We are going easy on you," Vossler said. His sword was loose in one hand, and the other went to his collar to loosen it. Ashe found her eyes following his movements, and she swallowed.

Vossler remained oblivious, but he unfastened his collar nevertheless, allowing the material to hang open and show off his collarbone. It glistened. Ashe drew her gaze away and flicked back to Basch, who was apparently also interested in watching Vossler unfasten his collar. Oh.

Ashe coughed to break the silence, then moved into her sparring position. She tilted her head back in challenge, looking first at Basch then at Vossler. "I should learn to fight more than one enemy at once, should I not?"

They looked at each other, as if unsure. "It is for my own safety," Ashe said. "Now engage me!"

Basch paused only to take off his cotton shirt, and Ashe was caught entirely off-guard as Vossler rushed her. She toppled over backwards, but managed to hook her foot around Vossler's knee, bringing him down with her. He moved just enough so that he didn't fall directly atop her, and Ashe laughed breathlessly, her face so close that their noses were almost touching.

Ashe caught her breath, eyes flicking up to Vossler's. His were wide, his hands to either side of her head encircling her like she was prey and he the hunter, slowly licking his lips. His eyes darted down to her lips, then back up again, and the moment was dashed by Basch, whose hand sought Vossler's, pulling him to his feet and leaving behind an intense vacuum of cold where his heat had once been.

Ashe, face burning, reached out by instinct for Basch, whose solid arm rescued her from the hard floor, pulling her in close under the pretence of checking for injury. She was not fooled; his voice was too breathless, his pupils too wide, and there was a shake to his fingers that he could not hide with brusqueness. She allowed herself to sag in his arms for but a minute, head on his bare chest, before collecting herself and standing upright and alone once more. Ah, but his scent was in her nose and her hair was in disarray and it was gloriously, deliciously intense.

Vossler hovered close, not speaking his worry, but his hand in the small of Basch's back and then under her chin, checking for bruises, told a different story.

Later on that night, when she was finally alone in her chambers, Ashe enfolded that memory close to her heart, resolving to examine it thoroughly like the puzzle it was, working out the creases of her feelings 'til she could finally make sense of it all.

**#2 On Hunting**

Ashe was more careful how she entered Basch's room these days, but, on this occasion, excitement got the better of her. She flung open his door. "Father says there is to be a Royal Hunt!" she exclaimed, "and we are all to... participate..." her words trailed off. Vossler was there, in naught but his undergarments, and there was no sign of Basch.

"Vossler," she said, determined to act as if nothing was wrong. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on his face, which was, she noted, watching her with curiosity and a raised eyebrow. "I see you have forsaken your own quarters these past months. Are they no longer to your liking?"

"Princess," he said, inclining his head. He paid no mind to his improper appearance, which made Ashe furious for no reason she could discern. She felt her cheeks burn, and she turned on her heel.

Placing her hand on the door-frame, as if for support, she took a deep breath. "Father says I can attend the Hunt, if Basch and yourself escort me. It is three days from now, so we had better get some training in before then."

She fled, the anger and confusion churning in her gut until she felt sick. Where were the butterflies, she wondered, that were supposed to accompany such girlish fancies? In the peace and coolness of her own bedroom, she calmed like the centre of a sandstorm. She took a firm hold of her confidence, bolstered it with all the princessy haughtiness she could muster, and made her plans anew.

The morning of the Hunt dawned clear and hotter for the lack of cloud cover. All the better for Ashe's plans, although the planning and the actual carrying out would probably be somewhat different. Well, time to think about that another day. She took especial care with her appearance, but not so much as to appear vain.

It wasn't long before they were all saddled up and riding for Giza, Ashe flanked by Vossler and Basch as usual. She had, of course, had some input into where the hunt was to take place. Giza was perfect, with its shady places and oh-so-easy to get lost in. The main party could hunt for Werewolves 'til their hearts' content, and Ashe could settle her own heart with a hard, fast ride into seclusion. Followed, of course, by her faithful guards.

She set her heels to the flanks of her favourite chocobo, Wyvern, and they set off at a sprint. She heard voices call out behind her, and leaned over to spur Wyvern into further speed until they reached her destination – a corner of the South Bank, bordered by water at the Southmost point. She had dismounted and half-groomed Wyvern by the time Basch and Vossler crashed into sight, and she looked at them pointedly.

"It is for the best that I was not ambushed," she said, levelly. "Or you would surely have found naught but my remains by the time you arrived. I wonder that your riding is so poor! I thought you had the best teachers, the two of you."

Basch looked at Vossler and arched an eyebrow, and they dismounted as one unit. "We were taught to ride swift but with care, Princess," Basch commented.

"Aye, and with none of that recklessness you seem so eager to show off." Vossler sounded reproving, but Ashe knew he was not angry with her. Her Knights could never be angry with her.

She took a breath, harnessed her courage, and walked in close to Vossler. Hooking two fingers into his collar, she pulled him in close. "Here's some recklessness for you," she said, kissing him at the corner of his mouth. He made a small sound of surprise, but did not move away, instead opening his mouth slightly. Ashe felt the tiniest, sweet flicker of tongue before he made a noise of protest and yanked himself backwards. "Princess," he started.

Ashe narrowed her eyes, cutting him off with the very gesture. She turned to Basch, and advanced upon him. "I will not be refused," she said, all the power of her status behind her. He nodded, albeit slightly hesitant, and stepped in close, taking her hand and putting it to his own collar.

He did not take his eyes from hers. "I am yours, my Lady." Her fingers tightened in his collar, and she saw his eyes flit over her shoulder to Vossler's as she pulled him in. Perhaps she tugged harder than she meant to, then, but it didn't seem to put him off if the deep noise he made in his throat was anything to go by. Their lips met, soft and brief, before Ashe pulled away, regretting it in the same instant. Her heart was jumping so hard in her chest that she felt sure Basch must notice it.

"We must return to the party," she said hurriedly. "I am sure they will be wondering where I have got to."

Basch and Vossler looked at each other, bemused. "Do not make me ask again." She arched an eyebrow and mounted up. "I will not attract suspicion for this, and nor will you mention it." She looked them in the eyes, holding their gazes. "To anyone. Am I making myself clear?"

Vossler stood to attention, hiding behind his formalities as usual. Basch bowed slightly, saying, "of course." There was nothing amiss in his voice, all in all it was exactly as if nothing had happened. Precisely as she had planned... so why did it feel so sudden, and  _wrong_?

It wasn't until later that night that Basch opened the door to Vossler's room, silently as ever. They met, crashing together like forces of nature, all tongue and teeth and eager voracity. The day's events went unspoken, though both of them still held the memory of Ashe's kiss on their lips.

**#3 On Ladylike Affairs**

Ashelia's chambers were in uncharacteristic disarray; clothing littered the floor in the form of petticoats, garters, and silken underthings Ashe saw as purely frivolous. She looked ridiculous-in her own mind, at least-standing in front of her mirror, swathed in heavy skirts and torturous corsetry, stitched into one of the elaborate evening dresses she had been dreading as of late.

The evening approached-too swiftly, in Ashe's bitter opinion- and with it a royal function for a purpose Ashe had been dreading. Dalmasca needed to parade its very own Princess for traveling suitors; of course, there were politics at hand, and King Raminas would be holding court with leaders from as far away as Rozarria- but Ashe knew that she was of an age, now, to be considered a commodity.

She had sent away her servants, angered by their fussing and primping over her, their insistence that she  _wear this, try that, oh, but why do you not wish to be pretty?_ Ashe had torn ribbons from her hair and tossed her jewelry to the floor, demanding solitude. She had but one final order, however.

To fetch one of her Knights.

Ashe stared at her reflection in the mirror, running fingers over the fine embroidery decorating the bodice of her dress. It had been commissioned and tailored in Archades; she had chosen the color and patterns herself, and yet-

"My lady," came a voice from behind her door. A single knock followed, hesitant and purposeful at once.

_Vossler._

Ashe immediately felt her face grow hot as the outcome of her impulsive actions became reality.  _Why_ , exactly, had she demanded he be summoned? She found herself at a loss for words, tongue tied and breath caught, as she looked around her room-

"Ashelia," came the voice, louder. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes-" Ashe said, suddenly conscious of her appearance, the mess she had made in her petulance. "You may enter."

Vossler stepped into the room, confusion on his face giving way to a hint of amusement as his gaze fell upon the floor.

"What happened here?" he said, looking at her. She looked away.

"Do you need me to defend you," Vossler said, toeing a crumpled stocking, a slight smirk on his lips, "from your own undergarments, My Lady?"

Ashe spun to face him, startled at his forwardness, and he shook his head.

"I apologize, My Lady. Such words are unbecoming in the presence of-"

"Actually, I  _do_ ," Ashe said, trying to hold back a smile, feeling triumphant in this surprisingly casual exchange between them; excitement at the fact that she could shock a man twice her age with a jest bordering on bawdy-

"I-" Vossler's eyes widened as he looked around and swallowed, realizing that he could not, in fact, avert his eyes from silken unmentionables which seemed to be tossed everywhere, suddenly feeling as if perhaps he really  _shouldn't_ be here-

"Come," Ashe said. "Help me with this ribbon. I cannot tie my hair myself."

"I- but where are your girls, My Lady?"

"I sent them away," Ashe said dismissively. She was bent, untangling a ribbon from the pile on the floor. "If someone is going to dress me like a prize-winning goose at the bazaar, I would rather it someone who might appreciate the results." She stood, and held out the ribbon.

"Ashelia," Vossler said quietly, and suddenly the room seemed very quiet; the two of them very alone.

"I know you have touched women, in... the intimate ways," Ashelia said, looking at the floor. She wanted to kick herself for the nervousness she could not keep from wavering in her voice. Vossler made a noise that sounded something like choking. "Why should you be hesitant now, Sir Azelas?"

Still Vossler stood, mouth open and eyes wide. It  _would_  have been comical to Ashe- this effect she had with so little effort- if she herself weren't shocked at her own words, if she were not feeling the searing-hot pressure of tension rising in the air, in her chest, in-  _other_ places-

"I will not repeat myself," she said, her voice low. "Come."

Something came over Vossler's face- concentration, perhaps- and he stepped closer to her, accepting the ribbon.

"As you wish," he murmured, and she turned to face the mirror again, her back to him. She could hear him breathing, feel the distinct presence of his body heat there behind her, and then, his fingers in her hair, gentle- she closed her eyes, briefly, snapped them open to her reflection with Vossler behind her, staring, intently, at her face.

"I am uncomfortable with this evening's affair," she said, and he busied himself with tying the ribbon, threading fingers through her hair and weaving in the silk, somewhat clumsily.

Oh Gods, but she could  _feel_ the shaking of his fingers.

"It is only to be expected, in your position."

"I do not desire to mingle with suitors, or... wear such garments- I would rather be outside, with you, and Basch, adventuring-"

"There is little adventure to be had in my position, My Lady. It is not as glorious as you might believe. It is tied," he said, and his hands fell back to his sides. "Is it pleasing to you?"

Ashe turned her head; she could see the side of the ribbon, tied into a crooked bow.

"Your hands are more suited to a sword," Ashe said. "As are mine."

"It is not proper for a lady to obsess over such hobbies," Vossler said. "There is no need."

Ashe turned around to face him. They were close, closer than she realized, and Vossler visibly started as she looked up at him, seeming as if he meant to step back, but hesitated-

"One day you may regret such words, Sir Azelas. That you would tell me I am not suited to learn such things."

"I pray that day will never come. This is why you have your knights, My Lady. Why Basch and I are here to serve you. To protect you, as a daughter of Dalmasca."

"I wish to be more than that," Ashe said, her voice becoming fierce with an edge she could not control. "I wish you would see me as more than that. It makes you no better than anyone else here, if you merely see me as a  _symbol_ , as something to be coddled and watched over-"

Vossler put a hand on her shoulder, heavy and gentle, and she fell silent.

He leaned a bit closer, speaking quietly; Ashe could feel the tickling hum of his breath against her ear. She couldn't help the involuntary closing of her eyes, oh, damn it—

"Do you remember, my lady," Vossler said, his eyes on  _Ashe_ , now, and not her reflection—"that one particular hunt?"

"Yes," Ashe said quietly, suddenly feeling as if the both of them were entering a very dangerous territory, beyond any uncouth encounter she could have ever fantasized.

"I still think about the way you kissed me, my lady," and Ashe's arm reached back to grab the hand still hanging at Vossler's side and pull it forward; the motion was awkward, but Vossler slid his hand across the line of her decolletage, pulling her body closer, back against him, resting his forearm against the line of her collarbone. Ashe could not stop herself from shaking; she knew Vossler would never hurt her in any way; however this was certainly unexpected behavior, and she knew not where this would lead.

"Yes," Ashe said again, clipped and sharp. She could feel Vossler's chest against her shoulders, feel the pounding of his heart—or was it her own?

"Please know this, my lady," Vossler said, and sighed. "You are many things to me, and now you have become a woman, and—" he shook his head slightly. "Such things are not appropriate, though I cannot deny—oh, hell, what would  _Basch_ think of all this?"

" _Basch_?" Ashe repeated, and turned around, slipping from Vossler's grasp to look up at him. "What does Basch have to do with it?"

The way Vossler's eyes shifted set off a spark in Ashe's mind, something she had been suspecting but had not yet seen confirmed, and she wagered, now, that perhaps it were true—

"I know there is more between you than the simple life of brothers-in-arms," she said, and Vossler made no effort to hide the embarrassment on his face. "I know why you often share your quarters. It is of no matter to me; I know sometimes men… indulge with one another, yet—" her eyes travelled down to his collar, and she remembered, oh-so-vividly, the way it had felt in her fingers when she first pulled him to her for a kiss.

"Do you feel nothing towards me, Sir Azelas? Tell me the truth, now, in lieu of other revealed secrecies."

"I do feel," Vossler said, "but such feelings are neither appropriate nor productive here, and though it is not necessarily my place to say it, I would advise you to concern yourself with other affairs, my lady."

The anger and frustration on Ashe's face were severe, but she did not speak. She merely reached up into her hair and untied the ribbon Vossler had clumsy placed there, tossing it, once more, to the ground. "You will leave now," she said coldly, and turned her face away.

Something about her insolence was like kindling to the unacceptable—no— _perverse_ fires, Vossler thought—burning in his chest, and he could not help but speak once more before taking his leave.

"You should have learned already, my lady," he said, his voice sounding a bit more predatory than he intended, "in your studies of courtship, that though I am your knight, I am but a man, and men are creatures who can only withstand so far of a push when it comes to temptation."

Ashe looked him straight in the eye.

"I know," she said, in a manner that made it clear to Vossler that for all intents and purposes, she planned to push him— _them_ —to a point of no return.

Lust overcame him, and his leave was silent and swift.

* * * 

"Such a sour face, on such a gorgeous young woman."

An ambassador from Archades had managed to shred Ashe's last remaining shred of patience with his "compliment"—she made a conscious effort to make her face look even  _meaner_  as she glared at him. He looked a bit taken aback and frowned before turning back to the small group of men he was consorting with, muttering something about  _cold Dalmascan women_ or something to that effect.

"The idiot doesn't even know who I  _am_ ," Ashe muttered to herself, anxiously fidgeting, over and over again, with the parallel lines of dainty ruffles running down along the bodice of her dress. But then again, why did she even care? It was probably better that way—the evening had been near unbearable, so far; only an hour into this dreaded mess of social airs and stiff, terrible dancing, and she already wanted nothing more than to rip off the constrictions of her dress and run away to the comfort of her bed.

_Or Basch's. Or Vossler's._

She pushed the thought out of her head—they were  _here_ , after all; somewhere in the massive ballroom; her father, it seemed, was the only one absent, shut away with other rulers and their politics whilst their lower ranked, subordinate officials and their ladies wasted time on frivolity and practiced airs. A veritable legion of servants, it seemed, rushed about offering refreshments; a group of musicians were engaged in performing appropriately subtle and elegant music, and Ashe was in the middle of it all, managing somehow, so far, to stay under the radar.

She caught sight of Basch, standing at the farther side of the hall; she couldn't suppress a smile as she grabbed hold of her skirts—clumsy things made, it seemed, to facilitate unsightly trips and tumbles—and rushed over through the crowd.

"Princess-" Basch began, and Ashe reached out swiftly to cover his mouth with her hand. The texture of her glove against his lips, along with the subtle scent of her perfume, caused a rather unexpected rush of heat through his body.

"Do not call me that," Ashe said, though the guests in their vicinity were oblivious to their exchange. "I do not wish to be recognized."

"Very well," Basch said as she removed her hand. "But why? Are you not enjoying yourself?"

"Did Vossler not tell you?"

"No, my lady… I have not spoken with him this evening. What is it?"

"I've been dreading this," Ashe said, "and I do not wish to be here. Come, let us go. Outside."

"I'm afraid I cannot leave, my lady. A knight's conference is to be held in the company of your father, in lieu of the political consult—"

"Of course," Ashe sighed, her face falling. "You are tied to this as much as I. At least you've no fear of power-hungry lechers in search of a powerful bride. Which makes me think—do you have need of a bride, Basch? Or is Sir Azelas enough?"

Basch started, his mouth falling open. "My lady—"

"No matter," Ashe laughed. "I know you two are close, that's all. I apologize. Well if we cannot leave, then—please, Sir fon Ronsenburg, might you join a lady in a dance?"

Basch still looked at bit shaken by her previous comment, and he ran a hand through his hair, brow furrowing.

"A dance?"

"Yes," Ashe gestured behind her; a Dalmascan waltz had begun to play, and couples were gathering towards the center of the ballroom, beginning the steps. "Please," and she took Basch's hand in hers. Her eyes widened when Basch wrapped his fingers around her hand, pulling her closer with a firm grip to lean closer to her ear.

"It is not wise, Ashelia, for a princess to consort in such a manner with her hound," he said. "I am not dressed in a suitable manner."

Though not in armor, Basch wore the traditional uniform of a Dalmascan knight at a formal affair. Though moderately elaborate, it was by no means a match for the regalia of the aristocratic crowd; his rank was obvious, and thus he remained at the outskirts of the crowd, waiting to be summoned by the King.

"I find your dress to be quite handsome," Ashe said softly, sliding a hand up over his plainly decorated waistcoat, his neck, the leather collar expressing his rank. Her fingers lingered on the material for a moment before her hand slid up to his face, the rough texture of his facial hair and the heat of his skin.

"Please," she repeated, as he stared down into her eyes. So incredibly forward, she was—Basch had noticed the increase in Ashe's forwardness and affections towards himself and Vossler as of late; he had tried to ignore it, but it was so very difficult, all things considered. He pictured Vossler's eyes in his mind, stoic and burning with whatever judgment Basch knew rested, no doubt, in Vossler's honor and morality. This was their Princess, their Lady, and yet—

This need humming unspoken between the three of them was getting to be a bit much to bear.

"May I cut in, Princess Ashelia? I am honored, truly, to have come upon the pleasure of your presence."

Ashe pulled her hand away a bit too violently at the sound of the voice besides her; Basch too, stepped back hastily and assumed his posture.

"Sir Margrace," Ashe said, failing to hide the obvious note of displeasure in her voice. She cast a quick glance at Basch, and then looked back to her suitor, forcing a smile and bending in an elegant curtsy.

Sir Margrace seemed unaffected by Ashe's tone, though the serving girl waiting a few steps behind him made a face.

Ashe offered out her hand, and Sir Margrace—Al-Cid, in less formal surroundings—took it, pressing his lips to the back of her hand with a bow of her head.

"I was surprised to not have come upon you sooner," he said. "Being that I have officials in talks with your father Lord Raminas, I was delighted at the opportunity to attend this—such a lovely party, you Dalmascans throw."

Ashe smiled. "Yes," she said. She looked over at Basch again, who had dutifully averted his eyes and stepped further away. "I was just having a word with my knight—surely you've heard of Sir fon Ronsenburg?"

"Why yes," Al-Cid said. "I have—I'm just surprised, Princess, that you would hold such close consort with a man of his standing."

"He has more honor—" Ashe began, but Basch stepped forward to cut her off.

"Sir Margrace," Basch said, and Ashe clenched her teeth, "It was my fault to be so forward. I was merely asking the Princess to dance, in jest."

"I see," Al-Cid said, running fingers through his hair. He held out a hand, and the maid behind him quickly stepped forward to place the stem of a wine glass between his fingers. He took a sip. "Strange social norms, you Dalmascans hold."

"Sir fon Ronsenburg is not from Dalmasca," Ashe replied, with forced humor in her tone, "but I suppose he is strange, all the same."

**#4 On Perseverance**

"She is becoming rather forward," Vossler said, running his hands through his hair. He rested his hands on his hips and shook his head. "I'm assuming you've noticed."

"I have," Basch replied, pulling off his undershirt. He tossed it onto his bed and stretched; muscles and mind sore. A day of training young knights coupled with the better part of an evening spent in attendance of the King's conference had left him feeling spent.

"She said she spoke with you today. She failed to mention on what topic."

Vossler crossed his arms, and looked away.

Basch was about to speak, ready to comment on the sheer absurdity of the situation—two men, in a state of distant proposition with the woman they had sworn to serve, when a knock at the door interrupted them.

Vossler was closest to the door, and so he opened it, slowly—

"You  _will_  let me in," it was Ashe—"and you will let me in  _now_."

Vossler had barely stepped out of the way as Ashe barged through the door, still in her gown, though partially undone; her hair was loose and her gloves were off; her feet bare. Vossler was about to comment on the discomfort of walking through the castle yards to the knights' quarters in such a state, but Ashe's voice took precedence.

"Please," she said, and her hands, balled into fists, were shaking at her sides. "I have a request."

"Is something wrong, my lady?" Basch asked, ever concerned, and Ashe shook her head.

"You both know as well as I what is transpiring—what has been-  _growing_ \- between us," she looked from Basch to Vossler, both of their gazes fixed on her, silent.

"I do not know what you mean," Vossler said lamely, and Bash sighed.

"My lady," Basch said, quiet and soothing, "allow me to escort you back to your bedchambers. This is not the place for—"

"If I am to marry some  _idiot_ who only wants power—one of those fools back there offering me airships in Bhujerba or jewels in Archades, then I wish to at least keep one thing to myself, one secret to hold. I wish to know what it is like. To lie with a man. With the both of you. Please."

There was silence, and all was still. Neither Basch nor Vossler moved or spoke, and Ashe stepped forward to take Vossler's hand in hers, to place her other on Basch's chest.

"Please," she said. "I am not afraid."

"My lady," Basch breathed, and then that was all, because he was truly at a loss for words, not wanting to deny his Princess, yet knowing all of the many troubles and consequences inherent in fulfilling such a request. And then there was Vossler—a lover already in place, whom Basch knew to be feeling the same conflicts, the same desires, as yet undiscussed.

Ashe pressed herself against Basch, tugged hard on Vossler's hand so that he staggered forward, closer to them. Vossler and Basch exchanged a glace above her head. It was knowing, and doubtful, and tense. Tension and heat threatened to smother them.

"My lady," Vossler said, "please, it is late, and you need rest."

Ashe said nothing, but her body relaxed, her head bowed against Basch's chest as if defeated. She allowed herself to be led away, to the door; Vossler's hand gentle upon her arm, and then she pulled away.

"I will go," she said quietly, staring at the floor. "But I will go alone. You two stay here. I will be fine. Share your  _pleasures_ ," and then she slipped out through the door, pushing it quietly shut behind her before either man could summon a response beyond shock.

They stood there, alone, for several moments, until it was clear that Ashe had surely made distance from their quarters.

"Well," Vossler said, anxiously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

"Are you not conflicted, Vossler?" Basch said quietly.

"I was not wont to say it first."

Basch reached for Vossler, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him closer.

"You, of all people, would deny the Princess what she wants?"

Vossler sneered. " _You_ of all people would fulfil such a request?"

"You want," Basch said, sliding a hand down to the front of Vossler's breeches, finding the hard ridge of his cock straining against the cloth. Vossler's breath hitched, sharp.

"You've been this way since she spoke," Basch continued, and squeezed Vossler in his hand.

Vossler made a noise. "I—I do not deny it, Basch. She—I cannot help but want her. I know you feel the same."

Basch hooked a finger into Vossler's collar, pulling him closer still. He slid a hand over Vossler's cheek and a thumb over Vossler's lips; Vossler's mouth opened and the finger slipped inside.

"Yes," Basch said, "I do."

Vossler's mouth fell open, his tongue against Basch's thumb, and then Basch's mouth met with his, harsh and wanting, his finger withdrawn, leaving a trail of saliva where he rubbed it against Vossler's cheek. Vossler wrapped his arms around Basch, his hands snaking up into Basch's hair, feeling, pulling, until Basch groaned against Vossler's mouth and pulled his face away.

"Know this, then," Basch said, pressing his forehead against Vossler's, the space in between their mouths heavy with breath and heat. Vossler's hands trailed over Basch's bare back, pressed his hips forward to meet with Basch's own hardness, and growled—

"You are forever," Basch continued, "despite what happens. And so is she—"

"For both of us," Vossler panted, as Basch's hands slid from his face down to his sides, pulling their hips together once more.

"I would  _have_ you both," Vossler said, and bit at Basch's lip—"if honor and duty did not bind me otherwise."

"You  _may_ have us both," and Basch's tounge was on Vossler's neck now, kisses pressed hot and wet below his ear as Vossler's eyes rolled back. "You need only say the words, Vossler."

**#5 On The Intimate Relations**

Ashe made sure to dismiss her maids earlier than usual, claiming a raging headache that needed utmost quiet. They pulled the heavy drapes behind them, dimmed the lights and closed the huge doors softly behind them, like soft-footed ghosts finally dissipating.

She went to her wardrobe and opened up the smallest door, right in the corner, then sighed. None of the underthings were appropriate; whether too sheer or too normal, nothing caught her eye. At least, until her mind strayed to what she had planned. She allowed herself to think upon that for a moment, then selected a lace-trimmed confection, airy as a summer breeze and perfectly fitted to her body. She put it on anxiously, examining the way it clung to her before finally giving up worrying about it. It did not look ill, just... felt strange on her body.

A soft knock at the door startled her out of her worries, and she briefly checked her reflection again before calling out, "enter." Her voice did not waver at all, and she held on to that fact as Vossler and Basch entered her chambers.

"My Lady," Basch said, softly. Their eyes fixed upon her, and in that instant all her previous worries dissolved.

Vossler smiled. "Princess, you look-"

Ashe cut him off by holding up her finger. "Ah, no formalities. This night, we are equals. Is that an acceptable stipulation?"

"Yes, my, uh," Basch stumbled slightly over the familiarity. "Ashe."

She closed the different between them and took hold of Vossler's hand. She lifted it to her mouth and kissed his fingers, closing her eyes as she inhaled his scent. He pulled her in close, and she felt Basch behind her, his hands on her shoulders. She turned to kiss him, hands moving down to loosen his shirt. His stomach was hard under her fingers, and she delighted in his muscles, pushing the garment up and over his head.

She dropped it on the floor and tilted her head back to allow Vossler access to her neck. He brushed her hair away and kissed her nape, his hands straying round to her neck. Basch dropped his head and nibbled her collarbone, his stubble scraping across Ashe's skin like sandpaper.

Ashe took charge once more, stepping forward until Basch's legs were against her bedframe. She pushed him down onto the bed, then turned and pulled Vossler down with her, so she was again between the two. She propped herself up on one elbow, trailed her fingers down Basch's chest 'til she reached his leggings. She flicked a look at him from under her eyelashes, then took hold of Vossler's hand, putting it where hers was.

Basch moaned, his erection clearly visible through his leggings. He reached up and pulled Vossler in by his collar, claiming his mouth hungrily as Ashe watched.

Vossler unfastened the laces on Basch's leggings, pulling them down slightly before Basch stopped him with a hand. "This is seeming a little unfair, brother," he said, his voice husky. "Am I to be entirely derobed before you take off a single item?"

Vossler chuckled as Ashe's hands went to work on his own shirt. She pulled it off with eagerness, taking a second to admire his chest before Basch pulled her down for a kiss.

"And what about you, Ashe. You have the advantage on us, as usual." Vossler bent to her back, planting a row of kisses up her spine. She shivered beneath them, feeling like her skin was on fire.

"Remove it," she said into Basch's mouth, and his hands met Vossler's, sliding up her body and removing the nightdress. In one fluid moment she was bared to them, and shaking from either cold or lust or a mixture of both.

"That's better," Ashe began, but her words were cut off as Basch nipped her lower lip. She inhaled sharply; Vossler's hands were on her, gentle as if he thought she would break. It was maddeningly slow, his touch; sword-born callouses and his big hands. "Though," she gasped as Basch's thigh rubbed against her, "now it seems I am the one at a disadvantage. I suspect," her words shuddered out, "this was entirely your plan all along." Ashe sank her teeth into the flesh at Basch's shoulder, the smell of his leather collar in her nostrils as if they were fighting with swords instead of slow touches and heavy breaths.

"I will not stand for it," she said, insinuating her hand between their bodies. She pulled at Basch's leggings 'til they were fully removed, wriggling underneath Vossler as she did. He moaned and his hand dropped to fumble with his own cords. Ashe turned and rose until she was sat between Basch's legs, and took over Vossler's laces. Her fingers were shaking slightly, her movements clumsy, but she stilled as Basch's arms encircled her hips, his hands atop hers until the laces were removed.

She pushed Vossler's leggings down over his hips until they fell to the floor, and finally the advantages were levelled; naught between them now but hot skin and uncertainty. Ashe paused, her momentum lost for a second. Vossler tipped her chin up and planted a soft kiss on her lips. "Not having regrets, are we?"

Ashe shook her head hastily. "No. No, I was simply... unsure, I suppose." She laughed, embarrassed. "I am new to this sort of thing, after all."

"You are in safe hands, Ashe," Basch said, his voice deep and comforting as ever.

Vossler nodded. "Entirely in charge, too."

"Just say the word and it all ends."

"I would like," Ashe swallowed, "to continue." She looked up at Vossler, then away again, embarrassed. She scolded herself for her timidity. After all, had she not been dreaming about this for so long? She knew what she wanted, and she took hold of herself. "The two of you hardly need me here," she said, her voice shaking ever-so-slightly. "I want to watch... for a while." She shifted position until she was reclining against a pile of cushions, the familiar setting grounding her. "Now."

Vossler's eyes went round, but a slow smile played across his face. "Yes, my Lady," he murmured, kneeling over Basch, whose fingers tangled into his hair with the ease of long practice. He tugged Vossler down for a kiss, deep and long, then broke off and pushed his head downwards. Vossler went with willing, kissing Basch's stomach before circling his erection with a wet tongue.

Basch moaned and arched his back, fingers pulling at hair hard as Vossler took him full in his mouth. His hips stuttered upwards and Vossler took him deeper, watching Ashe as he did.

She bit her lip, one hand on her breast and the other inching downwards. Vossler moaned around Basch, and she caught his eye, knowing the precise extent of the effect she was having on him.

"Ah," Basch huffed, "faster." His head was thrown back, exposing the line of his neck broken only by the leather collar that they bore as brothers-in-arms.

Vossler made a noise in his throat that could have been a laugh, and licked the full length of Basch's cock. "Think of our Princess, brother," he said, watching Basch's reaction. "We're having all the fun." Vossler crawled up Basch's torso and drew a finger down the front of his collar. He used it to pull Basch upright for a kiss, then pushed him back down onto the bed and turned his attentions to Ashe, who watched him with lidded eyes.

She was breathing heavily, a sight that made Vossler even harder. He straddled her, and she reached up to pull on his hair, hesitant at first, then harder as he moaned in response. She pushed at his head experimentally, and he grinned, following her direction. He licked at a nipple, taking it in his mouth and sucking until Ashe moaned. Her head fell back as Vossler moved down, licking and kissing until he parted her thighs. She gasped at the wetness of his tongue, and the pressure, tangling her fingers in his hair as Basch had done.

Vossler stopped sudden as Basch's hand went up his back. He turned and regarded his brother with lidded eyes as Basch smiled. "Who's having all the fun now," he asked. "I felt quite left out."

"Don't stop," Ashe added breathlessly.

Vossler groaned loudly as Basch opened him up with finger and tongue.

"That's an order, Azelas," Ashe said, tightening her fingers in his hair. Vossler could but moan in agreement, licking her as Basch licked him, pressing inside his tongue as Basch did the same. They gasped in unison, and Vossler arched his back as Basch pressed a second finger inside.

"More," he gasped out. "Basch, brother. More..."

Basch's voice was husky with lust. "Am I to assume you brought the oil, Vossler?" He didn't wait for an answer, just slid off the bed.

Vossler knelt up and watched him. "Pocket," he said, unwilling to waste any more time than necessary by making Basch look for it.

Ashe watched with interest as Basch climbed back onto the bed and sat down, his legs planted firmly on the floor.

"I see you already have ideas about how this is going to work," Vossler noted with amusement. "But how will our Lady feature in this arrangement?"

"Heavily, I should hope," Ashe chimed in. She moved down the bed and pressed herself against Basch's back, rubbing her hands across his shoulders.

"Most definitely," Basch said. He tipped oil into his palm and slicked it on himself, lips parted in a moan at the touch. "Brother, oh be quick," he breathed.

Vossler positioned himself, holding Basch's shoulders for balance and his eyes on Ashe's as he slid downwards oh-so-slowly. His head dropped backwards, a groan escaping his throat as Basch thrust, just once, then stopped to just breathe for a second.

"Ashe," Vossler gasped. He reached for her hand and drew her closer. There was a moment where they almost unbalanced, but Basch righted himself enough for Ashe to slip between them and wrap her legs around him, and then Vossler was inside her and it hurt, far more than she expected. Both Basch and Vossler stopped all movement the moment they saw her wince of pain, but she simply swatted Basch on the shoulder.

"I am no porcelain doll to be wrapped in cotton," she ground out, tipping her head back onto Vossler's shoulder. " _Move_ , or I swear, I will-" her ability to form words suddenly dissolved as Vossler thrust upwards. Basch kissed Ashe's breasts, his arms encircling her and Vossler; she felt completely surrounded by sensation, and could hardly control her panting.

Ashe ran her fingers through Basch's hair, tangling with the fine wisps at the nape of his neck then taking hold of his collar again. She pulled his head back and kissed him thoroughly as Vossler planted kisses all across her neck and shoulders, his breath at her ear and his hands between her and Basch, stroking her as he thrust. She could feel Basch's movements through Vossler, jerky at first, but then he found his rhythm and they were moving in sync.

Vossler grunted as Basch thrust harder, hitting that perfect spot every time until he could barely breathe. The momentum of Basch's thrusts added to his own to send Ashe's head spinning as she crashed into orgasm with a shuddering moan. She tensed up and then cried out as Vossler came with a ragged groan, tipping Basch over the edge as he did, his last thrusts erratic and shallow as the sensation heightened.

Sagging forward, Ashe rested her head atop Basch's shoulder, her breathing regulating albeit slowly. Her face felt flushed to scorching, and her legs were beginning to cramp, but, despite that, she was more comfortable than she had ever been in her life. Right up until the point that Vossler lifted her bodily off them and onto the bed.

He followed her and pulled Basch down too, 'til they were all entwined in stickiness and heat, Ashe tucked into Vossler's chest and Basch wrapped around her. She sighed in contentment, her fingers stretching up to touch Vossler's collar like a token.

"My maids will be along too soon, I fear," Ashe murmured. "But you will stay for a little while." She looked up at Vossler questioningly, though her words were an order.

He dropped a kiss on her head, and Basch planted one between her shoulder blades.

"This changes nothing," she said into Vossler's chest.

"Never," Basch said, his hand at her hip. "We are yours, my Lady."

"Until you have no more use for us and our loyalty becomes simply a bore," Vossler laughed.

"I'll see you keep that promise, Sir Azelas," Ashe mumbled. She drowsed, feeling safer than she ever had in her life.


End file.
